Page 63 of Necessary Cruelty

Twenty

Sophia is waitingin my driveway when I leave for school Monday morning. She leans against the door of my Maserati like I haven’t broken other people’s jaws for doing the same damn thing.

“What do you want?” I ask as I stride up, not bothering to look at her.

“Last night you said we could ride to school together.” The simpering look on her face tells me she’s lying through her teeth. I’m never drunk enough to black out, and I have no memory of saying anything that even sounds like riding together.

“I got a bunch of crap in the front seat. Sorry, no room.”

“Please. I can’t afford to be late again. I have Ms. D’onofrio first period, and she’ll give me detention.”

I shrug. “Not my problem.”

“How am I supposed to get to school?”

She lives less than two blocks away and has her own car. Riding with me is a power move, not a necessity.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Never one to take a hint, Sophia chases after me. Her too high heels clack against the pavement. “After last night, I just thought it would be nice to spend some more time together.”

I regretted that kiss pretty much the moment I laid it on her. Her mouth tasted like lipstick wax and left me looking like I snarfed a glass of red Kool-aid.

I don’t exactly feel bad for using her, because Sophia spends pretty much every moment of her day begging to be used. But the girl is like a venereal disease, one mistake and she never completely goes away.

When I climb in the driver’s seat and close the door, she leans through the open window. If I drive off now, the car will take off her head.

“What?”

“Did you hear what happened in the Gulch last night?”

The engine starts with a satisfying rumble, and I give her a look that says she is moments from getting her feet run over. “Like I give a fuck.”

She raises a micro-bladed eyebrow. “Even if it involves Zaya Milbourne?”

My fingers drum against the steering wheel. Little bitch knows she has me interested. “What happened? Something bad, I hope.”

Platforms tapping against the pavement, Sophia tottles around to the passenger door. “I’ll tell you all about it on the way to school.”

I unlock the doors, not bothering to clear off the pile of workout clothes and other crap covering the seat so she is forced to do it herself. Once she has the door closed, I peel out of the driveway without waiting for her to get settled or buckle her seatbelt.

Sophia lowers the visor and checks her makeup in the mirror then fluffs her hair. When she pulls a tube of lip gloss out of her bag, I lose my patience.

“Spit it out.”

She purses her lips at her own reflection. “Do you think this cherry color works with my outfit? Maybe I should put on something with more pink in it.”

“I honestly do not give even one individual shit. You have exactly five seconds before I get annoyed.”

“God, you can be so mean.” But she says that like it’s a funny joke, gently slapping my arm. “Patience is a virtue, Vin.”

I hate girls who hit. Let me raise my hands to them and see if they call it flirting. “If you want mean, I can shove you out at the next stoplight. Bet it would be fun to walk the rest of the way in those heels.”

Sophia laughs, as if I’m not deadly serious. “You can be so silly sometimes.”

It’s almost refreshing how much she’ll put up with to get close to me. I have no illusions she wants me for anything more than the power and position she thinks being attached to a Cortland will bring her. But the fact that she puts every ounce of pride she has aside in the pursuit always surprises me a little.

If only Zaya were this transparent. That would make my life a hell of a lot easier.

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